âI canât believe it,â Cissy whispered, her pale green eyes wide as she lowered the letter sheâd been reading.
Jeb Miller, the thirty-year-old pastor of Grasslands Christian Churchâand her bossâlaughed. His eyes danced behind the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses, his bright hair almost as shocking a shade of carrot-red as Cissyâs own.
âBelieve it. Theyâve offered you the position of director at the orphanage. Iâm not sure why youâre surprised,â Jeb said. âIâve sensed they were serious about you as a candidate for some time now.â
Cissy had been spending the majority of her summers at the orphanage since sheâd first visited there on a mission trip when sheâd been a freshman in college. Sheâd instantly known her calling was to work there. Now, at only twenty-six, she was being offered the job of director at the small orphanage and school just across the Texas border in Mexico. It was a dream come true, an answered prayer. And a problem.
âMy mother is going to hit the roof.â
Sally Locke, a widow, would not meekly accept Cissyâs move to Mexico. Sally didnât understand why her only child was not content to marry and have babies. She didnât understand why anyone would want to move away from Grasslands, which was, admittedly, a perfectly nice little town about an hour southeast of Amarillo, Texas.
âSheâll come around,â Jeb assured Cissy. âThey donât expect you until June 1, so that gives us a month to prepare. Meanwhile, Iâll petition the church for financial help.â
The salary offered by the orphanage was a pittance, but then Cissy had known that securing extra funding would be a big part of her duties as director. She gulped, wondering if she was up to the job.
Sensing her anxiety, Jeb suggested they pray on it, and bowed his head.
Cissy gratefully let him lead her in prayer. Toward the end of the prayer, though, she heard the scuffing of boots on the floor outside the church office, alerting them to a visitor.
Looking up, Cissy saw a tall, handsome cowboy standing just outside the room, a battered hatâalmost as black as his thick hairâin hand. His warm brown eyes slid right past Jeb to alight briefly on Cissy. She suddenly wished sheâd confined her riotous curls in a bun. Thankfully, that dark gaze swung back to Jeb as he moved forward with an outstretched hand.
âYou must be Gilbert Valenzuela, the handyman.â
âYes, sir.â The two shook hands as the cowboy said, âCall me Gil.â
âJeb Miller. Itâs a pleasure to meet you, Gil. Youâve come highly recommended by a number of our members. To hear them tell it, thereâs nothing you canât do.â
Valenzuela ducked his head. âMore like I know how to do a lot of little stuff.â
âA jack-of-all-trades,â Jeb surmised, clapping the other man on the shoulder. âThatâs what we need around here.â He made the belated introduction. âThis is the church secretary, Cecelia Locke.â
âCissy,â she corrected quietly.
âPerhaps I should say this is the former church secretary,â Jeb went on. âShe hasnât turned in her formal resignation yet, but sheâs just been offered a job as the director of Angeles del Orfelinato de Dios.â
âThe Angels of God Orphanage,â Valenzuela said, translating.
Cissy smiled. Maybe among his other duties Gil Valenzuela would be willing to help her practice her Spanish. A little thrill of excitement shot through her at the thought, but she instantly squelched it.
The very last thing she needed now was to get involved in any way with a man, especially one this attractive.
God had just shown her where her future lay, and she would be true to her calling, no matter what.
Gil hung his elbows on the top plank of the sagging corral fence. âYes, maâam,â he said, âI can train that filly, and I can straighten up this old fence, too, but youâll have to be patient.â
âThey keeping you busy out at the Colby Ranch?â Sally Locke asked idly, shading her hazel eyes against the afternoon sun.
Gil smiled. âLetâs just say Iâve got a lot on my plate.â
âWell, I hear youâre the best hand Belle Colby has, so weâll work out something.â
âThank you, maâam,â Gil said, turning his head as a little car puttered up to the end of the drive. Sally, too, looked in that direction and lifted a hand in greeting as the driver parked the coupe next to another battered compact. Gil blinked as the church secretary got out and started toward them.
âGood timing,â Sally called to the pretty redhead. âYou need to meet this fellow. Heâs going to be doing some work around here.â She glanced at Gil, saying, âMy daughter, Cissy.â